


Pressure

by Ancalime1



Series: Unnamed Astronaut AU [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Astronaut AU, Astronauts, Autistic Bruce Banner, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Outer Space, also be warned of like. self-indulgent sap lol, and jane is a good bro, this is basically just bruce getting over a meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime1/pseuds/Ancalime1
Summary: What begins as parasitic pain evolves into a meltdown.





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to blueemissary (@asgardianbrucebanner on tumblr) for betaing, and for coming up with the title! Enjoy this self-indulgent fluff. ;3

The thud of his boots hitting the floor was the last thing Bruce heard before his head started to throb, a pain so intense it felt as if a knife was being driven through his skull. He gasped and clutched at the wall to balance himself, beads of sweat forming on his brow and trickling down his face. 

How. How had it surpassed the blood-brain barrier.

Then again, how was it able to do  _ anything?  _ It had survived in the barren climate of the dwarf planet, and now it was surviving _ him _ . The parasite was adapting, adapting to his own physiology, thriving inside of him and binding to him genetically. For all he knew, it could have damn well hitched a ride on some unwitting monocyte or glucose molecule crossing the blood-brain barrier. A trojan horse so to speak, infecting him in order to survive. To  _ evolve _ . 

He was panting now. The pain surged through his midbrain, setting his amygdala alight. He gritted his teeth and slammed his eyes shut. Everything was suddenly too bright, too loud, too  _ bright _ . What had started as parasitic pain had escalated into a meltdown.

He anchored himself against a wall and wrenched his eyes open again. He knew what he needed to do. Pressure—deep, grounding pressure would do the trick. The rest of the crew was expecting him in the kitchen for supper—well, supper would have to wait. He hoisted himself along the wall and towards the airlock chambers.

He clambered through the first seal and tugged his space suit out of its locker. It felt puffy and soft in his hands, and he hugged it before putting it on. 

He donned every piece save for the helmet—he figured it would be better to have his head free while he waited for the meltdown to blow over, so as not to feel suffocated. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the comforting bulk of the suit, its weight feeling like a reassuring hug. He shuddered as the soft fabric brushed against his skin, and he squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed into its warmth.

There was no telling how much time had elapsed while he sat there, melting into the comfort of his suit. He felt his breathing slow, his pulse dropping to a more manageable rhythm. He sighed and clenched his hands a few times, trying to regain his bearings. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.  _ Breathe. _

“Dr. Banner?” 

His eyes flew open. Shit.  _ Shit.  _ The commander. His body snapped upwards, his balance awkward in the cumbersome bulk of the suit. “Uh, hi, Commander,” he blurted, trying to steady himself. His heart rate was climbing again, throttling his ear drums with sound. Come on. Pull yourself together, for chrissake _ — _

“We were waiting for you,” said the commander, her eyes traveling up and down his form. “What’s with the suit?” 

He felt his cheeks go hot with embarrassment. “Oh, I…” he fumbled, backing away. Shit. Come on. Make up something to say, anything. His hands curled into fists at his sides, a lump rising in his throat. 

_ Fuck.  _ His eyes began to fill with tears. 

“Dr. Banner?” echoed Commander Foster, eyes round with concern. “Hey, hey, you’re okay…”

Her words trailed off into silence. She stood there with her arms dangling aimlessly in the air, as if she had moved to touch him but had thought better of it. Bruce opened his mouth to say something—an apology, perhaps—but all that came out was a strangled sob. Damn it all, he would have been fine if the commander hadn’t showed up. He couldn’t bear for her to see him like this. He buried his face in his hands, wishing he could disappear. 

He heard the commander inch closer to him, careful so as to not intrude into his personal space. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Can I give you a hug?”

He froze, not sure if touch from the commander would improve or worsen his situation. He gave a hard, appraisive swallow, then slowly nodded his approval.

The commander carefully twined her arms around his waist, pulling him close. If his eyes hadn’t been so bleary with tears, he would have laughed at how silly they must have looked—the tiny commander hugging a man in a giant, puffy marshmallow suit. He gave a teary smile instead, and wrapped his arms round her small frame. 

This was… nice. The feeling of the commander’s hands against his suit created a nice, soothing friction that made his skin prickle with delight. He sighed and cuddled closer to her, allowing himself to sink into the embrace. 

“That’s it. I’ve got you,” murmured the commander into his ear, her voice low and warm. “You’re safe now, Bruce.”

The commander couldn’t have been further from the truth. There was an alien microorganism pitching camp in his brain like it was a goddamned vacation destination. But here in the safety of his suit, in the comfort of her arms… he had almost forgotten that he  _ wasn’t  _ safe. 

A beautiful illusion, he thought. 

They sat like this for several minutes, relishing in each others’ warmth, Bruce’s breathing gradually returning to its natural rhythm. Too soon did the commander let go, and too soon came her voice in his ear telling him that she had to leave.

“Oh,” he croaked, releasing her from the embrace. He dug a gloved fist in his eye. “Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry I….”

The commander hushed him. “Ah, ah. Don’t you apologize,” she said, cracking a smile. “Honestly, I’m just glad I was able to help you.”

Bruce swallowed, and dipped his head. “Thank you.”

The commander nodded. “I think you should hold onto this for now,” she said, patting his suit. “Maybe go and get some rest, too—you must be tired after all that.”

Bruce gave her a grateful smile. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The commander studied him, her eyes warm and thoughtful, darkened only by the slightest hint of concern. “You let me know if you need anything else, okay?” she said, fitting her hand into Bruce’s. “I may be your commander, but I’m also your friend. I… I want to help you.”

A lump rose in Bruce’s throat just then, and he felt his eyes begin to sting with tears. “Of course,” he said, dropping his gaze so she couldn’t see. “Thank you, commander. Thank you for everything.”

He couldn’t see the commander’s face as she left the airlock chamber, but he knew that it was drawn with worry. He hugged himself, wishing her arms were still around him, grounding him back into reality. But now that she had left, he could feel himself drifting again, back into the void of his thoughts. He was untethered and alone, accompanied only by the parasite in his head.

He sighed, willing the thought away. He cuddled into his suit and let himself succumb to sleep.


End file.
